


To shore

by crazed_peanut



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, One Shot, TW self-harm, also one mention of vomit in the beginning but not explicit, hurt!phil, so pls be careful with reading, tw depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7090204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazed_peanut/pseuds/crazed_peanut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil suffers a tragedy in his family and he has to live with his guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To shore

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! Naturally when one tries to deal with their own depression and self-harming habit, they write a fic about it.  
> Hope you enjoy!  
> The events and characters in this story are a figment of my imagination.

“Phil, District lines has some kind of problem with our merch.” Martyn announced.

They were on the Isle of man with their respective partners, so this was really inconvenient.

“Can’t they wait a week? Tell them we’ll be back in a week.” Phil half-ordered frustratedly.

“No, they want one of us to meet them by tomorrow afternoon.”

Phil groaned and rubbed at his eyes. It was early in the morning.

“Don’t worry.” Martyn continued “There’s a flight tonight to London. Cornelia and I will sort it out.”

They argued shortly, but Phil conceded. The situation was far from perfect, but Martyn would handle it, and he and Dan would get to enjoy a few more calm days.

Martyn didn’t call when they had landed, but most of the time he’s was distracted as Phil, so no one made much of it. When the evening’s exclusive news was that an easyjet plane had crashed and there were no survivors, the first thing Phil did after his call to the airline had finished and the dreadful news was confirmed, was vomit.

***

His therapist calls it a form of survivor’s guilt, he explains to Dan. Dan supposes that’s about right. He feels it himself, though compared to what Phil is going through, his pain and grief, and “survivor’s guilt” seem infinitesimal. It took a while for those feelings to settle in, about two months for Phil, and when they did, Dan was thrust into his own delayed shock. For a week all Phil could say was some variation of “It’s my fault” and “I should have insisted I went instead.”

His current phase is numbness. Not indifference per se, but complete refusal to engage in conversation, and thought, about what happened. Dan’s still profoundly grieving, for the first time since the events unraveled they’re in different stages and it’s making it extremely hard for both of them to live together. This is why today is the fifth day in a row Dan has met one of his friends for coffee outside of the apartment. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have left Phil alone. He had been extremely restless during the night, and particularly dejected during breakfast.

Bryony gives Dan _the look_ when he tells her this _,_ the one that he hates, the one of pity.

“But are you….” She tries “You’re not separated, are you?”

“No. And we don’t want to be.” Dan answers confidently. “We still sleep together. I mean, in one bed, you know, not… there’s not been much else recently. It’s so hard, Bryony. Phil’s not himself 95% of the time.”  

“It’s going to get better, you’ll see.” She reaches across the table to rub at Dan’s hand comfortingly, like his mother would, and he gives her a thankful smile. They change the subject then.

Dan decides to stop by a bakery and pick up an éclair for Phil. It’s stupid, he knows, but these tiny gestures are what’s been keeping their relationship alive for the past 5 months.  Dan’s had a funny feeling in his belly all day, so he doesn’t bother with unpacking this bakery plunder, he wants to find Phil. When he pushes the bathroom door open, the same funny feeling transforms itself, travels up his throat and escapes under the form of a whine. Phil’s lying in the bathtub in a shirt and boxers, his face still as expressionless as it was at breakfast. Dan needs a second look to assess what’s wrong. There are irritated red lines, cuts, all over Phil’s hips and thighs and two… no, three blades on the floor. There’s not much blood and Phil is alive and conscious, just not looking at Dan. This isn’t the first such occurrence.

“Hey, Phil.” Dan says quietly, more to draw attention to himself.

“Hey… I’m sorry, Dan, I’m sorry.” Phil half- whispers. Dan sits on the edge of the tub and caresses Phil’s hand.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about. Can I get in the tub with you?” Dan continues and Phil nods, prompting tears to spill down his cheeks. Dan tries his hardest not to freak out, or to cry himself, as he steps in the bathtub and slots himself behind Phil. He wants to maneuver them both, so they’re comfortable, but as he wraps his hands around Phil’s middle to pull him back, the man flinches. It’s distinct, he doesn’t even try to hide it, and it makes Dan shiver.

“Do you have cuts on your tummy, too?” Phil nods again. “Alright, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I want it to hurt.”

Dan punches himself mentally. Of course he knows Phil wants that, but he can’t help but be apologetic that he’s inflicted him even the smallest amount of pain. He doesn’t say anything more, instead kisses the top of Phil’s head periodically for the next half hour. He steals a couple of glances down at Phil’s legs. It’s not bad, he thinks to himself which is frankly a ridiculous statement considering the situation, but he’ll take the small victories. One such is that there’s no blood gushing out from anywhere, and the other is that Phil starts to hum along on the third song Dan whisper- sings in his ear. Dan gets brave and mentions the eclairs and getting out of the bathroom. This is one thing about Phil’s current state of mind, he’s not wallowing in misery all that much. What they’re doing now, it’s quiet time, not wallowing. Dan knows Phil will get out from that tub, will come and eat the pastry, will watch a TV show snuggled close to Dan, and occasionally he’d laugh too. But he doesn’t put even a third of the energy, mental or physical, that he used to in those acts. He’ll do it, and he doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t enjoy anything either. This now the man who used to vibrate with excitement over one to many things, from the man who used to be called “a literal sunshine” from his followers.

As Dan suspects, Phil comes out of the tub. They gather the blades and put them in a box. This is not the time for throwing them away or locking all sharp objects, it’s not the time to upset Phil more. Maybe that makes Dan a bad boyfriend, but he knows this is a problem to be worked through with other, less drastic measures.

“Do you want me to help clean the stale blood off of you?” Dan asks finally.

“No, I’ll manage, thanks. But…” Phil hesitates. Dan waits. “You have this t-shirt, that’s really soft, can I wear it tonight? My stomach….” He stops, but Dan doesn’t prompt him to continue. He goes to find the shirt and leaves it on their bed while Phil cleans off and showers. He takes the time to cry quietly into his hands, try to force it all out before Phil comes into the lounge. But he’ll never manage. Later that evening they’ll be lying in bed, Phil will pretend not to hear Dan’s whimpers and sobs, and Dan will pretend he doesn’t know Phil’s lying on the side that hurts more. Then, in their sleep deprived state they’ll drift to the middle of the bed and hold each other like a lifeline. They’ll cry together and promise to be better, to get better, to let their respective therapists help them, to be together no matter what.

“I was supposed to die with you on that plane.” Phil says one night, about two weeks later. Dan stiffens immediately. “You were going to be the last person I saw before there was nothing. Instead you’re the last person I see every night before I fall asleep. Please don’t give up on me. I know I’ve been effed up, but I love you, I want you.”

“I love you so much. Together, right?” with this Dan turns to face Phil and they kiss. This occasion is going into his imaginary “small victories” list, because as the night progresses, Phil lets Dan touch his body and worship it like he hasn’t been allowed to do in so, so long. On top of that, when Phil climaxes, the pleasure overshadows his sense of guilt, Dan can tell, and he takes great pride in his partner, and in himself for it. Even if tomorrow they’re lost at sea again, this is the lighthouse’s guiding light, and they’ll follow it to shore, and to safety.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it to the end!  
> Tell me what you think in the comments and hit the kudos if you enjoyed this. I don't have tumblr, so all my other fics are hosted just on this website, and shoot me a pm with a prompt if you like my writing!


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